


Drenched

by xoshae



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blood and Violence, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 14:30:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20277424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoshae/pseuds/xoshae





	Drenched

It was around that specific time of evening where the sun sunk just below the horizon and in turn filled the sky with vivid hues of orange and pink. It was the sniper's favorite time on the job, as from his usual nests high off the ground, he was able to get a clear view of the vibrant gradient painted over the clouds. Granted, he often was never graced with the opportunity to simply gaze upward, the hail of bullets persistently flying at him and around him and causing him to be constantly on high alert. Today was no different. 

It truly was a pity-- to him, at least-- that he was rarely able to appreciate the nature he had so fondly grown up in, but again he found himself perched up in the crudely-made wooden enclosure he always stayed. The dingy shack was beginning to become a second home to him; Each morning the sniper set up his things for the day and got to work. He was situated high up off the ground, and inconspicuous enough that the opposite team generally forgot that he was there. That is, only until he watched the other mercenaries through his scope, honing in on individual red uniforms like a hawk encircling its prey. It was all too easy for him to pull the trigger, sending a bullet through the enemy's skull and bringing them back to respawn in only one shot. He was far from remorseful. The victims were resuscitated instantly after each death.

The days of killing were long, and he often went hours without moving. His body ached to run around and fight like his teammates, but it simply wasn't an option. His skills didn't cover close range combat. It was unfortunate, but it was a fact he had learned to accept.

As the battlefield grew darker, the sniper shifted positions uncomfortably. The fight was dragging on rather slowly, so he granted himself a short break to recuperate. He set his rifle onto a damaged crate beside him and stood, a borderline erotic groan involuntarily escaping his lips as he arched his back and stretched. The sensation was heavenly, temporarily relieving his spine of the dull ache that nagged at him more the longer he sat hunched over his weapon. It was a recurring issue for him. He took a moment to note that he would surely benefit from improving his posture, or at least swinging by to speak with the medic.

Though the stretch took care of the physical pain tugging mercilessly at his neck, he still felt the pressure in his lower abdomen. He glanced over to the small but growing collection of liquid-filled glass jars, also set on top of a worn wooden crate. Being in the sniper's nest was certainly no luxury, and the facility clearly didn't have plumbing. Though he hated to have himself in such a vulnerable state while a match was in progress, several times a day he undid his fly and filled a jar.

He unscrewed the lid from an empty container and set it down, spreading his feet apart as he pulled himself out of his uniform slacks. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of the heat crawling towards the tip of his cock. That's when he heard it.

His eyes snapped open, his body reacting by instantaneously turning toward the origin of the sound. Sure enough, the RED spy had decloaked and was smugly sitting atop another crate only feet away from him.

The sniper was humiliated, his face bright and hot as he flushed. He hastily fastened his pants while simultaneously grasping for his melee weapon. "How long have you been here?" The BLU demanded.

He didn't allow time for an answer, though it was doubtful the spy would be honest in the first place. He swung at the enemy, only to have him leap out of his reach and to the other side of the nest. The entire structure rocked at the rapid shift in weight, and it became the spy's turn to submit to embarrassment.

He'd fallen to the floor due to his attempt to escape, and the movement had succeeded in knocking the jars over. The RED sat on the floor for a moment, astonished, before the humiliation truly hit him. He was at mercy of the other now, on his knees and now soaked with the other man's urine. It was demeaning enough to have it thrown at him, and this took it to another level.

"Why don't ya just shoot yourself, while you're at it?" The sniper's bashful expression quickly turned to a sly smirk. It was clear that he had the higher ground, and he couldn't help but wonder how someone as coy as the spy could get stuck in a situation like this. It never occurred to him that perhaps he had intended for this to happen.

He picked up one of the jars that hadn't shattered from the impact and overturned it on the spy's head, pouring out the last remaining bit over the mask obscuring the man's face.

NOT DONE, JUST POSTING CAUSE I DONT HAVE THIS BACKED UP


End file.
